


Tag

by Poiby



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Drabble, I don't have an answer for you., M/M, Podfic Available, What is this?, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 00:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poiby/pseuds/Poiby
Summary: Thomas was running. Newt would never catch up.





	Tag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persnickett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickett/gifts).

> A poem I wrote a while ago. I don't really know what else to say. This is just something to fling into the void while I work on other things.

Thomas was running. Newt would bever be able to catch him. No, Thomas was far too fast.

He had kept a blistering pace over burning sand and damp stone. His confident stride a facade meant to distract you from the fear in his heart. The fear that fueled him. Guilt chased Thomas away from what he had created and what he had done. The beast thundering after then wasn’t always visible.

Newt would never be able to catch him. He followed anyway.

They cannot go back now, the worlds and lives they had been given had crumbled in a blaze they had fanned and the ashes had been swept away by harsh winds. They cannot go back now, they cannot turn back time. No, they cannot go back now. The only way out is forward.

Newt would never be able to catch him. Newt ran on anyway.

The two hadn’t been born to run. They had been trained to. In quiet corridors cloaked in sterilized white, they had been raised. Mind games and tests surrounded by lab coats and needles, yearning for nightfall. Sculking through dark places no one but themselves knew of and meeting in unlocked and dusty closets to exchange brief words and meaningful looks. Neither of the two were born to run. During the hell they called their childhood they had been trained to. And while this broke Newt’s spirit Thomas rose like a phoenix from ash, burning with purpose. The moment he opened his eyes with an empty mind and nothing but a name on his lips Thomas was already running.

Newt would never be able to catch up.

He had made sure himself with ivy clutched between bloody fingers and nothing in his heart. Newt ran on anyway because hidden away in Thomas’s cupped palms something shone brighter than the sun. An echo of warmth followed Thomas like a comet's tail. Newt had been freezing for as long as he remembered. With numb hands he reached out, longing to be closer. Yet he could never get close enough and Thomas never noticed his cries as they were ripped from his mouth by icy fingers before they reached his own ears. Newt would never catch up but he ran on anyway. Hoping the whisper of heat Thomas had left in his wake for him was enough for now. Thomas ran forever forward, into the unknown.

Away. Away. Away.

Newt’s feet ached and his bad leg burned a painful reminder but he must keep running. Thomas was disappearing into the future and Newt ran forever after him, waiting for the day where Thomas fell or finally slowed to a stop. When either they had failed or found peace Newt would finally catch up. He’d greet the boy he had been following since the age of five with open arms and Thomas would finally see him, truly see him.

They could never go back, that bridge had been burned by what lay hidden in Thomas’s palms but they could move forward and dream.


End file.
